One Last Chance
by Gallifreyan Ginger
Summary: Coda to "Mystery Spot" The months for Sam were only hours for Dean and now Sam must deal with how he feels about his "past" and Dean's future or let it consume him. R&R please! No Flames!


One hundred and seventy-five Tuesdays and one Wednesday. That's the time it took to strip Sam of everything he once was. He'd been stripped down to the bone and when he'd put himself back together, like a jigsaw puzzle, he could tell pieces were missing, lost in blood, death, sorrow and grief. Lost in the hundreds of times he'd been forced to watch the life leave Dean's eyes.

One hundred and seventy-five Tuesdays and one Wednesday. In that time Sam had lost his brother in more ways than anyone would have ever thought imaginable, and along the way...somewhere during the unstoppable deaths and nearly four months of revenge filled haze Sam had changed. Seeing a loved one die that many times should bring about feelings of sadness, anger, hatred, defeat, and desperation but all Sam felt now was the cold numbness. He was drowning in a sea of "what ifs" and as the current grew stronger, as Dean's deadline drew closer, Sam realized he was going under.

They were more than a hundred miles from Broward County and the only reason Sam knew this was from the mile markers he'd been counting. Nothing had been said between him and his brother since Dean's breathy, "Sam, get in the car," as he pulled Sam off of Kel. Sam was pretty sure he'd broken the guy's nose but didn't get a clear look before the bloodied man ran away, leaving behind the weapon that had taken Dean away from him once before. Sam stood there a few moments longer to make sure Kel was at a safe distance before he brushed himself off. He'd almost headed toward the driver's side before forking quickly to the right and taking his place in the passenger seat beside his brother.

The next mile marker passed and Sam was still waiting on things to go wrong. A part of him knew it's over and Dean was going to make it through the day, but nearly 4 months without him and Sam found himself in disbelief that Dean's really there, that the Trickster let them go, no strings attached. He was still expecting to wake up in his queen bed, not to the sounds of the clock radio Dean always set too loud or to the sounds of Dean's light snoring, but alone in his single room. Awake at seven, almost like clock work. The small table in the middle of his room would still be holding his empty plate and the plate with the untouched hamburger with extra onions. In those months he could never stop himself from ordering Dean's favorite with whatever he got for the night.

Sam leaned his head against the cool glass of the window as he licked his lips. There was a hollow feeling inside of him that he had been sure would go away once he got Dean back. Hours later it was still there, it gnawed at him and finally he realized why. Even if the Trickster had turned back time, even if his body didn't show the scars of the months of non-stop hunting, he still remembered. He remembered it all like it was just yesterday because for him it had been just yesterday. It had been hundreds of yesterdays and an equal amount of tomorrows he'd wish wouldn't come. For him it had been months but he could still remember the last time Dean died. He'd sat there holding Dean's body, crying out and begging for the day to repeat. But it never did and when tomorrow came, Sam knew what he had to do. He had to hunt down the bastard who was responsible and take down anything or anyone that got in his way.

And that's exactly what he did. One by one he'd fought his way through shape shifters, demons, spirits, and vampires and no matter what he killed the hole in him, the anger, the hunger for retribution couldn't be filled. He'd cut himself off from everyone who offered to help or stop him. He literally warded off Ruby, could have cared less where Bela was, stopped answering Bobby or Ellen's phone calls after he'd informed them of Dean's death. He was alone in his fight and he was going to make damn sure he found the Trickster. His life became a never ending cycle of waking up, eating just enough to keep him strong, researching, hunting whatever he could kill, researching more and sleeping just enough to keep him going. He sewed up his own wounds, never once caring if infection would come. Hell a part of him would have welcomed it but the other part refused to give up, refused to leave Dean in hell.

He became methodical to the point of obsession. He knew it wasn't healthy but he didn't care because if he didn't succeed…well, he never let himself believe he couldn't or wouldn't succeed. He would get Dean back and he would make damn well sure he stayed alive. It was the extremes he went to in his attempts to get Dean back that frightened him. It wasn't until he had gone as far as to stake Bobby when he hadn't been one hundred percent sure it was really the Trickster. It was those few moments when the body hadn't immediately dissipated that shook Sam to his core, cracked his armor and made him see the monster he was becoming, had become. A monster that was willing to kill an innocent human to bring back his brother.

The Impala hit a dip in the road and Sam's head gave a smack as his forehead bumped off the glass, breaking his thoughts but still he kept his eyes on the road as he watched the white dashes on the pavement flick by so fast that they blended together.

"You know, Sammy, eventually you're going to have to talk. Talk about what happened because I know you and I know there's something you aren't telling me," Dean said his voice rough.

Sam didn't say anything. He had nothing to say or at least nothing he wanted to say. The months alone never happened. He had to keep telling himself that. Had to keep telling himself that the things he did, the things he was willing to do to get Dean back, didn't actually happen. He wanted so bad to treat it all like a bad dream. One of those dreams that seemed so real but you knew any moment you'd wake up and everything would be ok again. Only, he hadn't awoken from this dream. He hadn't even truly lived it yet. All those loops, all those days without Dean were like a free sneak preview of what was to come.

"Sammy, c'mon, talk to me. I know you're hiding something. That guy back there…Kel…you knew he was going to try to mug me and that can only mean one of two things: either your freaky psychic visions are back, or that wasn't the first time you'd seen that go down."

Sam closed his eyes, as he tried to get the image of Dean's last death out of his head. He could still remember the smell of burning wood and flesh when he'd salted and burned Dean's body. He could still remember calling Bobby and before he could say anything Bobby figured it out. He still remembered the cold that crept into him and resided in his soul for those nearly four months afterwards. Once the cold had set in, he didn't remember feeling anything else. He just wanted so desperately to forget and Dean's prodding was only making it harder to close the gaping wound made when he simply couldn't make himself wake up from the nightmare. Suddenly the Impala wasn't moving anymore. Dean had pulled over.

"Dean, don't," he said, not really aware of it.

"Don't want, Sam? Don't ask? Don't worry why you're not acting like yourself. Sam, when you woke up this morning, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"Please," Sam asked, his voice cracking along with his defenses.

"Sammy-"

"Dean, just don't, OK! You don't understand you don't know what I had to go through."

"I know exactly how you feel beca-" but Sam didn't let him finish. He opened his door and shot out of the car. He needed air. His anger and returning grief were suffocating him. Sam ran a hand over his face as he heard Dean get out of the car. He turned around and the dam broke.

"You don't get it Dean, you just don't get it! You saw me die one time and one time only. Try one hundred and seventy-five times, Dean! Try having to relive it over and over and each time not being able to stop it. Every day, Dean, I tried to keep you safe, but everyday I had to watch you die some horrific way. Every day I'd wake up knowing you were going to die, praying I could stop it, but every god forsaken day I'd lose you again. A few of those days I actually got my hopes up."

Sam walked over to the Impala and sat down on the hood. His head dropped as he felt tears beginning to burn behind his closed lids. He felt the Impala dip lower as Dean sat beside him but didn't speak. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean. His brother's eyes were filled with worry but his face remained emotionless.

Sam's voice was thick with emotion as he started to talk, "You know, there was this one time that I actually thought I'd saved you, that it was going to end. We were literally minutes away from midnight. I'd kept you safe the entire day. I let my guard down for one fucking minute and you were gone. I'd forgotten about the knife you kept under your pillow but apparently the Trickster hadn't."

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head again. The images of that death suddenly coming to the forefront of his memories made his stomach roll. He could still picture the knife sticking out of Dean's neck, his eyes wide with surprise. The blood stain on the pillow almost looked like a demonic halo behind his head. He hadn't woken up quickly enough from that one.

Sam felt a tear roll down his face as he raised his head and locked eyes once more. He needed to get this off of his chest. He couldn't tell Dean everything. He didn't want him to know the monster he'd become, but he needed to tell him something.

"You remember when you asked me back at the motel if something else happened and I told you that I'd just had a really weird dream. What I didn't tell you was that dream lasted four months. I knew Kel would mug you because I lived it Dean, only the first time, around I wasn't there to stop it. After so many times of watching you die, I finally got the loop to end, but I still couldn't save you. You died and I didn't wake up. My desperate need to end the loop left me out of chances to save you. The Trickster made damn sure of it."

The tears he'd hoped to stall finally broke through and Sam stared ahead as he continued, "I can still remember burning your body. I called Bobby and told him what happened and that I was going after the Trickster…alone…then I cut myself off. It wasn't like they didn't try to help, but it was my hunt and mine alone."

Sam pressed his lips together as he ran a shaking hand through his hair, "I was gone three days and I know that was hell on you, Dean, but it was only three days. I had to live four months knowing I couldn't save you, and being one step behind the bastard who could bring you back. Four months is a very long time when you're alone, Dean. That was my life, alone with nothing but my anger and grief to keep me company. So Dean," Sam stopped and turned to face Dean again as tears streamed down his face, "How can you possibly say that you know what I went through."

Dean didn't answer. He simply put his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed.

"No matter what you think, no matter the time difference, I do know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to fight so hard, to give everything in you to protect someone only to watch one mistake rip them away from you. I know the hole that starts in your chest and slowly consumes you until you feel like you are nothing without them. And I know, Sammy, what it feels like to know that you can get them back, that you have that one last chance to make things right, no matter the cost to yourself. And I know that that hole doesn't go away when they come back, not completely….but it will, with time."

Dean's hand went to the back of Sam's neck for the briefest of moments, skin on skin and Sam closes his eyes again soaking in the warmth from the momentary contact. He felt the anger and grief once more subsiding. One last chance….that was all he had now. One last chance to keep his brother alive, he had one last chance to make sure that what he'd experience didn't happen a second time.

Sam wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "The Trickster was wrong about one thing Dean."

"What's that Sammy?"

"He said we were each other's weaknesses, but at the end of the day, we're each others strength. I am going to save you Dean. This one last time, I will save you."

Dean patted Sam on the back, a smile danced across his lips, "I know you will little brother."

Dean pushed himself off the hood of the Impala. "C'mon, Sammy, let's get out of here. I'm starved."

Sam watched Dean get back into the car before he pushed himself off the hood. He paused as he opened the door and nodded to himself. He would save Dean, no matter what he would. They were family and family stuck together, their bonds nearly unbreakable. Sam got into the car as Dean spoke, "So Sammy…I'm thinking hamburgers…with extra onions?"

Dean turned on the radio before Sam could answer. Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" came through the speakers as Dean started to bob his head to the beat. Sam smiled to himself. He had one last chance and he sure as hell wasn't going to waste it.

The End


End file.
